WANTED - Attractive Greek female, for fun, friendship and photo-shoot opportunities
Posted: Thu Apr 17, 2025 10:31 am
Don’t panic folks, you haven’t accidentally strayed onto an online dating platform or lonely-hearts column, but my most recent travels in Europe did indeed have the main goal of me hitching up with a very specific member of the opposite sex, namely a female False Apollo butterfly. Way back in 2009 I was lucky to find a couple of rather tatty male False Apollos on the slopes of Mount Olympos on the Greek island of Lesvos, but to date these were the only two examples of this species that I had ever encountered, and I only managed a rather poor photograph of one of them. Whilst planning this year’s European trips back in the middle of 2024 I decided that it was time to try and improve on this situation – I really needed to see a female, preferably a nice red one, and a decent shot of a male would be nice too. So, on Tuesday 8th April Vicki and I flew out from Stansted to Thessaloniki, picked up our Citroen C3 hire car, and headed east to Alexandroupoli where we would be staying in a rather urban hotel for six nights.
The area where we were to be searching for our target species was the same area that had suffered the horrendous wildfires of two years ago, and as we got closer to Alexandroupoli the extent of the devastation became only too apparent; mile after mile of charcoal forest, blackened tree skeletons stretching across hills and valleys as far as the eye could see. It must have been terrifying for the local population as more than 700 square kilometres went up in smoke, and the landscape will bear the scars for years to come yet. Remarkably, the False Apollo survived the fires here at its last mainland European outpost, and we were very keen to set out to try and locate a few. The weather forecast for the week was a little underwhelming, but we had high hopes that, given a few bright spells, our target would appear on the wing.
The quest began in earnest on the morning of Wednesday 9th April. The drive to our first site was rather interesting as we navigated off road along a farm track and had the challenge of crossing two lively fords, at one of which I did hesitate for a while, before committing life and car to the torrent. Recent rain meant the local streams and rivers were in fine fettle, and to reach our destination, we then had to park up the car, remove our footwear, roll up trouser-legs and wade knee-deep across a treacherously slippery fast flowing rocky waterway. The water was icy cold, but once we had dried off and walked on a few hundred metres we were finally in the right place. Unfortunately, the temperature was barely up to 10 degrees and there was no sign of the sun. We wandered around for a couple of hours but only succeeded in kicking up a solitary Eastern Dappled White and a single male Grecian Copper.
Eastern Dappled White
Grecian Copper male
By early afternoon we decided to cut our losses and try another site further northwest at higher altitude. Again, we were struggling with persistent cloud, but the temperature had risen a few degrees, and we were soon seeing butterflies on the wing, including large numbers of Painted Ladies in varying states of dishevelment, plenty of Eastern Dappled Whites, a few Eastern Bath Whites, Queen of Spain Fritillaries, Mallow Skippers, Clouded Yellows, singletons of Eastern and Southern Festoons, and more Grecian Coppers. It was about an hour’s walk to the area where we hoped to find our main quarry, and as we got closer the damned cloud thickened further, the temperature dropped, and most butterfly activity stopped. Frustrating.
Eastern Bath White
Southern Festoon
Queen of Spain Fritillary
Grecian Copper female
We decided to hang around for another half an hour, and during a brief sunny spell a male False Apollo appeared out of nowhere right in front of me, a very welcome sight! Another turned up two minutes later before the skies darkened again and rain threatened.
False Apollo males
Oh well, still no female, but it was lovely to see the male again and to get a few photographs that would be a vast improvement on the only one I had to date. This really is a special insect, uniquely marked amongst our European butterflies and very distinctive in appearance when in flight. The rapid wing-scale loss that occurs, particularly on the forewings, soon lends the False Apollo a semi-transparent appearance, but the hindwings seem to retain more scales for longer, giving the butterflies a rather strange, uneven look; Vicki commented that they appear almost moth-like. They also seem to be rather clumsy; flying low to the ground, they frequently crash-land and often end up sat with wings at awkward angles. Getting a clear and nicely posed shot of a fresh individual is therefore not the easiest of tasks!
With the weather deteriorating, we headed back to base and spent the evening enjoying the local food and wine at one of the many seafront tavernas in Alexandroupoli.
Thursday was Vicki’s birthday, so I handed responsibility for today’s itinerary over to her, and she opted for a visit to the Cave of Cyclops at Makri, home of Polyphemus, famed in Greek mythology. The view here across the Thracian Sea towards Samothraki is stunning, and the adjacent olive groves just inland were carpeted in wildflowers, with Clouded Yellows, Brown Argus, Swallowtail and Scarce Swallowtail, Wall, and plenty of Painted Ladies in evidence.
Looking towards Samothraki from Makri
On the way back from the cave we bumped into an organised butterfly tour group (Wild Echo/Wild Tours?), and during a brief chat with one of them it became apparent that they had visited the same False Apollo site that we had been to on our first morning out here, but unlike during our visit, they had some decent weather and had seen and photographed males and females. The sun was shining as we spoke, and Vicki generously allowed me to take the reins again and our plans for the afternoon changed to a return visit to the site. This time, after once again wading across the river, things were very different. We had soon seen a handful of male False Apollos – one area in particular was very productive: a damp channel running down a hillside with lots of Aristolochia plants growing in semi-shade, where males were patrolling up and down, searching no doubt for that same attractive Greek female that I was seeking, and before too long she appeared. Wow! What a beauty! A half-lifer for me, and we had hit our target – success was sweet!
False Apollo females
Several Southern Festoons were also flying here, and we did see a single Eastern Festoon but it wasn’t in the mood for hanging around. Incidentally, Greenwings were also touring in the area at the same time as us, evidence of just how sought after the False Apollo butterfly is, and I am certain it is the female that has the main pulling-power! She is a “must-see” on the European Butterfly list and for us it was now a case of mission accomplished.
So, what next?
We still had three days out here to continue our explorations. I wasn’t expecting to get any lifers from this trip, but there was a very slim possibility that I could pick one up. The odds were stacked heavily against me – I am speaking about one of Europe’s scarcest Pierids, highly sporadic in occurrence, very localised, but one that has been previously recorded in the Evros region where we were. Matt Rowlings sums the situation up well on his excellent euroButterflies.com website, where he states: “This is one of Europe's rarest species and is extremely unlikely to be encountered without a targeted search.”
As my best friend and devout atheist Bob Lambert often reminds me, “God loves a trier”, and I do like a challenge! We simply had to have a look…
So, on Friday 11th April we took the hire car for a drive north-east to a site close to the Turkish border. I had been looking at several areas on Google Earth with this rare species in the back of my mind, dry pebbly stream beds being the preferred habitat type, and we pulled up to one such area that I had earmarked. Cue raging river, nothing dry here. They really had been getting some rain recently! There were a few stony areas along the river edge, so we took a walk along the riverbank. The weather stayed true to form at a miserly 10 degrees and the sun was once again reticent, but a few hardy butterflies were making the most of things. Painted Ladies, ubiquitous all week, were active, as were a few whites, which were being highly scrutinised, but all were turning out to be Eastern Dappled Whites with occasional Small Whites thrown in. After walking for just over an hour we turned round and headed back towards the hire car. I wasn’t at all despondent; I genuinely had no expectation that we would find such a rare butterfly as the one I was tentatively seeking. We found a freshly emerged Scarce Swallowtail drying its wings in some tall grass, there were a few Clouded Yellows beginning to fly as the temperature climbed to a balmy 12 degrees, and all was well in the world.
Scarce Swallowtail
Clouded Yellow
Our stomachs were giving us gentle reminders that it was now past lunchtime. Vicki was a little way ahead of me and about 100 metres before we reached the car, a white butterfly dropped to the ground right beside my right foot and opened its wings. By the time its image had hit the back of my retina and travelled to my brain it was up and off again, but what had I just seen? A massive shot of adrenaline coursed through my system – my heart was racing - BLOODY HELL!!! Had I really just seen that distinctive forewing discal mark and that marginal black patterning? This was no Eastern Dappled White! This required urgent attention! The butterfly had flown 15 metres further back down the track, in the opposite direction from lunch, but pursuit was essential. It landed again. I fired off what I hoped would be at least a record shot from some distance away, then cautiously approached closer. It flew off again. “No, no, no, no, NO!!!! Sit down, sit down, SIT DOWN!” It sat down again. I practically threw myself prostrate to the ground next to it. I needed an underside shot just for my own peace of mind to confirm that I was indeed seeing what I thought I was seeing, but the insect (“it” was a she) was keeping her wings wide open in an attempt to get warm. Then she was on the move again. The potential for disaster lay all around me: if she flew left, she would be over a scrubby tangled border, down a bank, and away across a large expanse of abandoned agricultural land in a trice – pursuit would be nigh on impossible; if she flew right, she would cross the raging river in seconds and be lost to me forever. I begged; I pleaded. “Please, please, please, sit down, be calm, stay still! Down down, down down, DOWN!" There then followed a long game of cat and mouse, her landing every ten metres or so for between five and ten seconds at a time, me in hot pursuit, adverse cardiac event liable at any moment. Miraculously she didn’t stray from the path, didn't head for the Turkish border, didn't cross the river, and over the course of several hundred metres and ten very tense minutes I gradually captured a small collection of images, including sufficient detail of the underside to be 100% certain that I was indeed in the presence of a female Small Bath White, a species that I never expected to see in my lifetime; rarer than hen’s teeth and almost as scarce as rocking-horse shit!
Small Bath White
Habitat of Small Bath White
Eventually she out-paced me and I watched her go with a feeling of utter love and elation. I had just got a massive life-tick and confess I actually shed a few tears, tears of joy and disbelief at what had just happened, the most exhilarating few minutes of butterflying that I have had for a very long time. Now I could go back and enjoy my lunch!
I thought Vicki must have wondered where I had got to, but she was contentedly checking out a Queen of Spain Fritillary down by the riverbank. I showed her the photos on my camera of my newest lifer and got a bit emotional all over again! We returned to the car and replenished our stomachs. The weather was deteriorating once more so we decided to head back towards the hotel, but first I needed a pee, so went off in search of a suitable tree. “Take your camera with you just in case,” said Vicki. Sound advice as it turned out, since before I got to the nearest tree, two bright small orange butterflies took to the air in front of me and engaged in a vicious dogfight; Lesser Fiery Coppers, only the second time I had seen the male of the species. What a day!
Lesser Fiery Copper
To say that we celebrated that night would be an understatement. Lots of rough Greek red wine, tzatziki, stuffed peppers, olives, bread, eggplant, grilled octopus, and a huge plate of prawn spaghetti left us uncomfortably full and set us up for a poor night’s sleep with plenty of indigestion, but what memories we had just made!
The weekend had originally been forecast to be the best weather all week, but the forecast had been downgraded by the time it arrived. Nevertheless, we did some local sightseeing in Alexandroupoli itself, took a trip to the Evros Delta, and revisited another area for yet more False Apollo action, including egg-laying females this time.
Habitat of False Apollo
False Apollo female egg-laying
False Apollo ovum on Aristolochia
On our way back towards the airport on Monday we stopped off at the Nestos Gorge, but again, thick cloud meant little was on the wing. Wall Brown, Painted Lady, Red Admiral and Clouded Yellow being the sum of the excitement there; no sign of the Krueper’s Small White that graced us with its presence during our previous visit there back in 2024.
A ridiculously early departure from Thessaloniki airport at 05:50 on Tuesday morning had us back in Stansted before 7:00am UK time and we headed home. Our success in meeting up with the good lady herself – the fabled female False Apollo -was hugely satisfying, but that was totally eclipsed, as you may have gathered, by my female Small Bath White experience. Butterfly of the holiday by a mile, and I reckon it will be butterfly of the year for me also - I can’t see anything beating that. To top it off, she was a mint fresh beauty as well, and although she was a bit of a tease, she allowed me my own modest private photo-shoot; I am still on a massive high!
These events are the stuff of dreams, the meaning of life, the reason I travel in pursuit of these winged marvels of nature. I can’t get enough of them. Next stop, another one-species trip out to Italy in late May – any guesses what for?
The area where we were to be searching for our target species was the same area that had suffered the horrendous wildfires of two years ago, and as we got closer to Alexandroupoli the extent of the devastation became only too apparent; mile after mile of charcoal forest, blackened tree skeletons stretching across hills and valleys as far as the eye could see. It must have been terrifying for the local population as more than 700 square kilometres went up in smoke, and the landscape will bear the scars for years to come yet. Remarkably, the False Apollo survived the fires here at its last mainland European outpost, and we were very keen to set out to try and locate a few. The weather forecast for the week was a little underwhelming, but we had high hopes that, given a few bright spells, our target would appear on the wing.
The quest began in earnest on the morning of Wednesday 9th April. The drive to our first site was rather interesting as we navigated off road along a farm track and had the challenge of crossing two lively fords, at one of which I did hesitate for a while, before committing life and car to the torrent. Recent rain meant the local streams and rivers were in fine fettle, and to reach our destination, we then had to park up the car, remove our footwear, roll up trouser-legs and wade knee-deep across a treacherously slippery fast flowing rocky waterway. The water was icy cold, but once we had dried off and walked on a few hundred metres we were finally in the right place. Unfortunately, the temperature was barely up to 10 degrees and there was no sign of the sun. We wandered around for a couple of hours but only succeeded in kicking up a solitary Eastern Dappled White and a single male Grecian Copper.
By early afternoon we decided to cut our losses and try another site further northwest at higher altitude. Again, we were struggling with persistent cloud, but the temperature had risen a few degrees, and we were soon seeing butterflies on the wing, including large numbers of Painted Ladies in varying states of dishevelment, plenty of Eastern Dappled Whites, a few Eastern Bath Whites, Queen of Spain Fritillaries, Mallow Skippers, Clouded Yellows, singletons of Eastern and Southern Festoons, and more Grecian Coppers. It was about an hour’s walk to the area where we hoped to find our main quarry, and as we got closer the damned cloud thickened further, the temperature dropped, and most butterfly activity stopped. Frustrating.
We decided to hang around for another half an hour, and during a brief sunny spell a male False Apollo appeared out of nowhere right in front of me, a very welcome sight! Another turned up two minutes later before the skies darkened again and rain threatened.
Oh well, still no female, but it was lovely to see the male again and to get a few photographs that would be a vast improvement on the only one I had to date. This really is a special insect, uniquely marked amongst our European butterflies and very distinctive in appearance when in flight. The rapid wing-scale loss that occurs, particularly on the forewings, soon lends the False Apollo a semi-transparent appearance, but the hindwings seem to retain more scales for longer, giving the butterflies a rather strange, uneven look; Vicki commented that they appear almost moth-like. They also seem to be rather clumsy; flying low to the ground, they frequently crash-land and often end up sat with wings at awkward angles. Getting a clear and nicely posed shot of a fresh individual is therefore not the easiest of tasks!
With the weather deteriorating, we headed back to base and spent the evening enjoying the local food and wine at one of the many seafront tavernas in Alexandroupoli.
Thursday was Vicki’s birthday, so I handed responsibility for today’s itinerary over to her, and she opted for a visit to the Cave of Cyclops at Makri, home of Polyphemus, famed in Greek mythology. The view here across the Thracian Sea towards Samothraki is stunning, and the adjacent olive groves just inland were carpeted in wildflowers, with Clouded Yellows, Brown Argus, Swallowtail and Scarce Swallowtail, Wall, and plenty of Painted Ladies in evidence.
On the way back from the cave we bumped into an organised butterfly tour group (Wild Echo/Wild Tours?), and during a brief chat with one of them it became apparent that they had visited the same False Apollo site that we had been to on our first morning out here, but unlike during our visit, they had some decent weather and had seen and photographed males and females. The sun was shining as we spoke, and Vicki generously allowed me to take the reins again and our plans for the afternoon changed to a return visit to the site. This time, after once again wading across the river, things were very different. We had soon seen a handful of male False Apollos – one area in particular was very productive: a damp channel running down a hillside with lots of Aristolochia plants growing in semi-shade, where males were patrolling up and down, searching no doubt for that same attractive Greek female that I was seeking, and before too long she appeared. Wow! What a beauty! A half-lifer for me, and we had hit our target – success was sweet!
Several Southern Festoons were also flying here, and we did see a single Eastern Festoon but it wasn’t in the mood for hanging around. Incidentally, Greenwings were also touring in the area at the same time as us, evidence of just how sought after the False Apollo butterfly is, and I am certain it is the female that has the main pulling-power! She is a “must-see” on the European Butterfly list and for us it was now a case of mission accomplished.
So, what next?
We still had three days out here to continue our explorations. I wasn’t expecting to get any lifers from this trip, but there was a very slim possibility that I could pick one up. The odds were stacked heavily against me – I am speaking about one of Europe’s scarcest Pierids, highly sporadic in occurrence, very localised, but one that has been previously recorded in the Evros region where we were. Matt Rowlings sums the situation up well on his excellent euroButterflies.com website, where he states: “This is one of Europe's rarest species and is extremely unlikely to be encountered without a targeted search.”
As my best friend and devout atheist Bob Lambert often reminds me, “God loves a trier”, and I do like a challenge! We simply had to have a look…
So, on Friday 11th April we took the hire car for a drive north-east to a site close to the Turkish border. I had been looking at several areas on Google Earth with this rare species in the back of my mind, dry pebbly stream beds being the preferred habitat type, and we pulled up to one such area that I had earmarked. Cue raging river, nothing dry here. They really had been getting some rain recently! There were a few stony areas along the river edge, so we took a walk along the riverbank. The weather stayed true to form at a miserly 10 degrees and the sun was once again reticent, but a few hardy butterflies were making the most of things. Painted Ladies, ubiquitous all week, were active, as were a few whites, which were being highly scrutinised, but all were turning out to be Eastern Dappled Whites with occasional Small Whites thrown in. After walking for just over an hour we turned round and headed back towards the hire car. I wasn’t at all despondent; I genuinely had no expectation that we would find such a rare butterfly as the one I was tentatively seeking. We found a freshly emerged Scarce Swallowtail drying its wings in some tall grass, there were a few Clouded Yellows beginning to fly as the temperature climbed to a balmy 12 degrees, and all was well in the world.
Our stomachs were giving us gentle reminders that it was now past lunchtime. Vicki was a little way ahead of me and about 100 metres before we reached the car, a white butterfly dropped to the ground right beside my right foot and opened its wings. By the time its image had hit the back of my retina and travelled to my brain it was up and off again, but what had I just seen? A massive shot of adrenaline coursed through my system – my heart was racing - BLOODY HELL!!! Had I really just seen that distinctive forewing discal mark and that marginal black patterning? This was no Eastern Dappled White! This required urgent attention! The butterfly had flown 15 metres further back down the track, in the opposite direction from lunch, but pursuit was essential. It landed again. I fired off what I hoped would be at least a record shot from some distance away, then cautiously approached closer. It flew off again. “No, no, no, no, NO!!!! Sit down, sit down, SIT DOWN!” It sat down again. I practically threw myself prostrate to the ground next to it. I needed an underside shot just for my own peace of mind to confirm that I was indeed seeing what I thought I was seeing, but the insect (“it” was a she) was keeping her wings wide open in an attempt to get warm. Then she was on the move again. The potential for disaster lay all around me: if she flew left, she would be over a scrubby tangled border, down a bank, and away across a large expanse of abandoned agricultural land in a trice – pursuit would be nigh on impossible; if she flew right, she would cross the raging river in seconds and be lost to me forever. I begged; I pleaded. “Please, please, please, sit down, be calm, stay still! Down down, down down, DOWN!" There then followed a long game of cat and mouse, her landing every ten metres or so for between five and ten seconds at a time, me in hot pursuit, adverse cardiac event liable at any moment. Miraculously she didn’t stray from the path, didn't head for the Turkish border, didn't cross the river, and over the course of several hundred metres and ten very tense minutes I gradually captured a small collection of images, including sufficient detail of the underside to be 100% certain that I was indeed in the presence of a female Small Bath White, a species that I never expected to see in my lifetime; rarer than hen’s teeth and almost as scarce as rocking-horse shit!
Eventually she out-paced me and I watched her go with a feeling of utter love and elation. I had just got a massive life-tick and confess I actually shed a few tears, tears of joy and disbelief at what had just happened, the most exhilarating few minutes of butterflying that I have had for a very long time. Now I could go back and enjoy my lunch!
I thought Vicki must have wondered where I had got to, but she was contentedly checking out a Queen of Spain Fritillary down by the riverbank. I showed her the photos on my camera of my newest lifer and got a bit emotional all over again! We returned to the car and replenished our stomachs. The weather was deteriorating once more so we decided to head back towards the hotel, but first I needed a pee, so went off in search of a suitable tree. “Take your camera with you just in case,” said Vicki. Sound advice as it turned out, since before I got to the nearest tree, two bright small orange butterflies took to the air in front of me and engaged in a vicious dogfight; Lesser Fiery Coppers, only the second time I had seen the male of the species. What a day!
To say that we celebrated that night would be an understatement. Lots of rough Greek red wine, tzatziki, stuffed peppers, olives, bread, eggplant, grilled octopus, and a huge plate of prawn spaghetti left us uncomfortably full and set us up for a poor night’s sleep with plenty of indigestion, but what memories we had just made!
The weekend had originally been forecast to be the best weather all week, but the forecast had been downgraded by the time it arrived. Nevertheless, we did some local sightseeing in Alexandroupoli itself, took a trip to the Evros Delta, and revisited another area for yet more False Apollo action, including egg-laying females this time.
On our way back towards the airport on Monday we stopped off at the Nestos Gorge, but again, thick cloud meant little was on the wing. Wall Brown, Painted Lady, Red Admiral and Clouded Yellow being the sum of the excitement there; no sign of the Krueper’s Small White that graced us with its presence during our previous visit there back in 2024.
A ridiculously early departure from Thessaloniki airport at 05:50 on Tuesday morning had us back in Stansted before 7:00am UK time and we headed home. Our success in meeting up with the good lady herself – the fabled female False Apollo -was hugely satisfying, but that was totally eclipsed, as you may have gathered, by my female Small Bath White experience. Butterfly of the holiday by a mile, and I reckon it will be butterfly of the year for me also - I can’t see anything beating that. To top it off, she was a mint fresh beauty as well, and although she was a bit of a tease, she allowed me my own modest private photo-shoot; I am still on a massive high!
These events are the stuff of dreams, the meaning of life, the reason I travel in pursuit of these winged marvels of nature. I can’t get enough of them. Next stop, another one-species trip out to Italy in late May – any guesses what for?
